


The "Better Place"

by Idreamofhazel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Past Relationship(s), aswang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 00:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15545787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idreamofhazel/pseuds/Idreamofhazel
Summary: When children in your hometown begin vanishing in droves you’re called back to assess the situation. Finding it to be more than you can handle alone, you’re forced to turn to the brothers who got you into the business.This is not my own work. The author deleted their blog for work purposes but gave explicit permission for anyone to save and repost their works. Since I loved their stories so much and can't bear the thought of them being deleted forever, even if they aren't finished, I'm reposting them here.Written by HolyWaterBucketChallenge on Tumblr. It is incomplete.





	1. Hometown

You pulled up to a long red light and thumped your head against the steering wheel. Medical consults were the worst. Being a resident – or ex-resident – at a hospital helped, but it was still jarring to have to see what the outcome might have been if you had just stuck with it.

You would have made a great doctor. The blood and guts you get in an OR are adorable compared to the carnage encountered on the standard hunting trip.

**GREEN**

You hit the gas and roll down your window and let the brisk air jolt you back to work. That was all she seemed to do nowadays. Hunt.

They were calling it a hysterical pregnancy, but it didn’t make any sense. Poor woman. Could you imagine carrying for 7 months to be told: Sorry, sweetheart. It was all in your head? You flicked through the medical records on your passenger seat until you came to the ultrasound – nope. You closed it quickly and then opened it again, balancing the manila folder on your knee.

Nope, nope, nope. That lady totally had something in her tummy 5 months ago. Either that something wasn’t human or something stole her baby, you didn’t know which was the worst thought. God, wouldn’t it have been nice to be a doctor?

**RED**

It was at the light on Main at about 3:00 PM that you realized the pattern.

The snow on the sledding hill behind the school was untouched and the playgrounds and schoolyards were surprisingly empty.

**GREEN**

The children were disappearing.

It had been three weeks since you had come back home to hear of local reports of two missing children, but now this? You made a bet with yourself - if you checked the hospital records the rates of miscarriage at the hospital would be up by a fair margin. You jolt awake as the driver behind you lays on the horn of her silver SUV.

“Yes, okay! It’s green, thank you!” Waving dismissively out your window you pull into the grocery store parking lot while angry SUV lady pulls around the side of your jankey, old hatchback and speeds off to civilization. As you unbuckle your seatbelt and move to open your door your phone rings, your other-other phone. Reaching over and into the glove box you answer, “Dispatch.”

“It’s spreading.” Donna chirped in her Minnesota nice. 

“I know, it isn’t just children anymore. Whatever it is it’s taking them unborn, too.” You muttered, leaning back over to flip through Mrs. Harper’s charts.

“I’ve got three cases like that in this county too. I think we should call it. It’s getting out of hand.”

“That’s fine, Donna. Make the call just please let me handle it on this side of the cities? I don’t need to be butting heads with them; I came home to take care of it myself. You didn’t make me come all the way back here to let them clean up my mess.”

“This isn’t your fault you know, besides they’re over in South Dakota so they’ll be passing through your way. I suggest you stow it.” Donna quipped.

“Fine. Call.” The harsh snap of your phone closing putting an abrupt end to the conversation. It had been 15 years since you’d been home. After getting a call from Donna that kids all over her hometown were vanishing she called in reinforcements. It only made sense having grown up there for you to be her first call, but now with nearly 9 other counties affected just two hunters wasn’t going to cut it.

It would be nice to see Sam and Dean but seeing them always brought back the worst memories. In this place, of all places, you’d rather not.


	2. Confrontation

**Sioux Falls, South Dakota**

No matter how many times he said sorry or oops it wouldn’t change the fact that Dean had accidentally-on-purpose thrown out three consecutive fruit smoothies to make room for beer.

Sam was very, very done.

With the practiced silence of a trained killer, Sam reached over Dean’s sleeping form and into the cooler, grabbed his six-pack of beer and pulled it over the divider into the back seat. 

Sam ever so slowly pulled the tabs of each of the aluminum cans and listened to the slow hiss of the carbonation. This was going to be the start of a very long and ugly prank war.

Deep Purple’s Smoke on the Water reverberated from the inside of Dean’s coat pocket and Sam relaxed into a sleeping position while his brother fumbled in his jacket.

“Mmmm…’ello?” The older Winchester grumbled. Sam recognized the chipper tone and Minnesotan accent almost immediately.

“Hey, Donna!” Sam whispered. Dean waved a hand in front of his brother’s face to keep him quiet.

“Mmmmhmm gotcha, Alexandria.” Dean nodded and then as Donna continued he suddenly went rigid. Sam noticed the change immediately and sat up as Dean pressed his ear tightly to the phone. “We’ll be right there.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going to Minnesota.”

“Yeah, I figured when I heard Donna on the phone, what’s she got?”

“Something is taking kids up there in three different counties. She’s got a couple of other hunters helping her for now, but it’s too big of an area for just them to cover.”

“So who else is there with her?” Sam pressed his brother further. It was clear that Dean was dancing around the question, he paused awkwardly.

“Y/N.” Her name stuttered out of his mouth and Dean tried to cover it, “It makes sense, she’s from the area, it’s only natural that Donna would call her first.”

“Wow.” Sam was at a loss for words, it had been at least five years since they had seen Y/N; to Dean, It felt like longer. Probably because he couldn’t tolerate hearing her name, much less the idea of running into her on a hunt. 

Sam never did find out what happened. All he knew was that Dean had been on a streak of single women, single malt, and that the topic of Y/N was completely off limits.

“Dean?” Sam ventured, tentatively.

“Mmmm?” Dean’s jaw was clenched. Even though Sam could tell Dean was trying his best to seem unbothered by the situation, his brother wasn’t mentally with him in the Impala just now.

“Dean…I know this isn’t something that-”

“No.” Came the stern reply.

“Look, you can’t do this every time something’s eating at you. I know you and Y/N-”

“Sam,” this time his tone carried the threat of action, “don’t. Just don’t.” The younger Winchester watched his brother take a deep breath, his knuckles clenched and unclenched around the thin Chevy steering wheel, and Dean released a long breath. 

“Sam…I know we talk, I know what you’re trying to do. I’m not saying never, but just not now. Okay? Just not now, please?”

Sam had never heard his brother concede to the idea that he needed to talk without blowing it off completely and reaching for the nearest thing bearing a warning from the surgeon general. This was a step in the right direction; he could live with that.

“Okay, I can respect that.” Sam was silent for a moment, while his older brother side-eyed him warily, brow furrowed in thought.

“What? Okay, what? I can hear you thinking.” Dean snarled.

“Nothing! Nothing, it’s…it’s just nice to hear that you’re okay with the idea of talking about it.” Dean arched an eyebrow, “No, seriously! Feelings are good…calm down Robocop. I promise I won’t think less of you.”

Without another word Dean pressed his foot to the floor of the Impala and watched as the needle moved up over the speedometer and tried not to think of you.

As the hours, and miles, passed slowly the brothers watched the sunrise over the horizon as it beamed down onto the hood of the Chevy. Reaching over the seat of the Impala, Sam watched with apprehension as his brother honed in on a can of beer and fully cracked the aluminum top. Sam couldn’t help but snort into his jacket and turn his face to the window impassively.

“The fuck Sammy! Did you mess with my beers?!” Dean yelled. Sam couldn’t hide his laughter.

* * *

Checking into the hotel was an experience in and of itself. You were accustomed to the “Minnesota nice” hospitality, but this motel manager must have been from out of state.

“License and credit card?” The skinny disheveled man announced, holding his lanky arm over the counter expectantly.

“Sure thing, cowboy. What’s the rate?” You leaned across the counter, ignoring his outstretched hand.

“Forty a night, check out is at eleven. Don’t let the door hitcha where the good lord splitcha.” You couldn’t help the chuckle, “Somethin’ funny, girl?”

“You, sir, are walking stand up.” The man addressed your snide comment with a raised eyebrow. “No? In all seriousness, there should be a charge.” You leveled a cold gaze equal to his level of ignorance, “For your fucking attitude.”

The night manager snagged your credit card from between your fingers and hissed under his breath, “Just as bad as the other boys that came in earlier this evenin’. Stinkin’ of whiskey with their loud ass car, shitty manners and out of state plates…”

As the receipt for the two nights landed on the counter the words escaped your mouth through gritted teeth, “The boys……what state?” The owner of the establishment, upon evaluating the nature of your tone took a step back.

“Ohio.” The man issued, warily. “One of them ran his mouth like an auctioneer and the other stood a mile tall in the corner, silent as the grave.”

Your stomach flipped and your heart fluttered in your chest like a caged animal.

Leave.  
Leave now.

Before you had a moment to sign your receipt you bolted out the front door of the motel and made for your car, but a familiar growl purred into the parking lot. The old ‘67 Impala looked just as good as the day you last washed her.

Baby.  
My God, you missed her.

You certainly missed her more than the booger eating chicken fucker sitting in the drivers….

You snatched your keys from the manager and stood in the warm, familiar glow of the Chevy’s headlights, looking over the dashboard and into the forest green eyes of the man you left five years ago.


	3. Resonsibility

You wanted to run.  
Your feet wouldn’t move.

He was out of the car before you could’ve taken two steps anyway, a carefully guarded expression on his otherwise stupid, handsome face. “Well!” he crowed, his face suddenly forming into a happy grin you could still see through. “Look who it is, Sammy!”

Sam only shot you an apologetic smile, but you barely registered him. You finally managed to force your feet to move, headed for your room.

“Wait! Where you goin’?” You heard his footfalls behind you. You sped up, reaching the motel room and managing to get inside, locking the door behind you. Deaf to the pounding on your door, you spun and rested your back against it, sliding down to the floor with your head resting on your knees.

You had prepared for this encounter for years. Replayed hundreds - no, thousands of scenarios in your head. You couldn’t understand what had happened. You, the hunter that took down things that would give Wes Craven nightmares on a weekly basis, couldn’t face Dean Winchester.

Finally, the pounding on the other side of the door stopped and you stood reluctantly. After a moment you walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on hot and started stripping.

A shower would help.  
A hot shower and a cup of coffee before you attempted to face Dean again.

Dean stood incredulous on the other side of your hotel room door. He remained oblivious to his brother’s scolding until the younger Winchester rose to his full height above the Impala, leaning heavily on the roof of the Chevy.

“DEAN!” Sam shouted for the fifth time, “Let it go. Dude, we just got here and you’re already trying to bring the hotel manager down on us. We’re supposed to be Feds, not bounty hunters.”

“Shut up, Sammy.” Dean growled, lowering his fist that was poised to rap on the entrance to Y/N’s room. His brother was right, of course. He just couldn’t believe her reaction.

“How about you just…I don’t know, give her some space?” Sam watched his brother’s face for expected reaction, “She hasn’t seen you in over a five years. You were kids for Christ’s sake - how about you give her second, okay?”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he stalked to their own hotel room, just two doors down from yours. It shouldn’t, correction - wouldn’t be long until he saw you again. After all, you were all working the same case, you couldn’t evade him forever.

* * *

The appointment at the hospital couldn’t come fast enough. Tapping your foot anxiously as you waited in full Fed garb was torture. You could have gone outside, but the threat of Dean still lingered. Then again, the thought crossed your mind, you didn’t need to be there at the exact same time.

You rose, unsteady in your kitten heels, and strode with false confidence to the door. The cursory glance out the peephole showed no Winchesters in your line of sight. With the expertise of someone practiced in unmarketable talents, you silently opened and closed your hotel door and slipped into the driver’s seat of your rental.

Thank God you had the presence of mind to back-in last night.

With a rush you slipped the Toyota into gear and gunned the geriatric Camry into motion, praying that you could get in and out of the hospital before the boys realized you were gone.

* * *

Dean watched you through the curtains of his motel room window, feeling more and more like a creep every second, especially with how much you looked over your shoulder. The car, if you could even call it that, started up and you tore out of the parking lot before he could even get the door unlocked to get out and stop you.

“C’mon Sammy!” Dean was out on the sidewalk before Sam could peek out of the bathroom, his toothbrush still wedged between his teeth. “And get your Fed threads!”

He followed you all the way to the hospital but hadn’t been able to find parking close enough to get the elevator, and you were lost for a minute. He sent Sam one way and he went the other, finding you in a patient’s room - hugging her of all things. He had his hand on the doorknob when he was stopped by a doctor.

“Sorry, son. One at a time right now.” He smiled warmly at Dean, who was dumbstruck for all of a second.

“I’m family. I just need to make sure she’s okay.” He tried the same caring smile, but it felt fake on his lips. For extra effect, he showed his FBI badge.

“I’ve got a list of her family here, and it’s a pretty short list. There’s nobody on it. Now, there’s already an agent in with her, and she doesn’t need to be overwhelmed right now. She’s mentally unstable.” 

Dean managed to keep his face in a blank mask until the doctor turned away, striding from the room and taking up residence on a bench at the end of the hall, watching the room like a hawk to make sure he caught you when you left.

* * *

You were so glad when you lost the brothers in the elevator. You’d even gotten off on the wrong floor and jumped over to the adjacent hallway to throw them off.

The doctor let you into Sarah’s room and you sat gently on the edge of her bed, not bothering to show her your badge. With her handcuffed to the bed, ‘for her own safety,’ the doctor had said, it would only freak her out more. “Sarah? Hi, I’m Y/N. I just wanted to talk to you for a minute if it’s okay?”

Sarah eyed you warily but you plowed on. “I know that you’re upset, and hurting, but I need you to know that you’re not alone. You aren’t crazy, despite what these asses say. I know it’s hard to think about, and even harder to process. Just…please believe that I’m going to do everything in my power to stop the thing that’s doing this.”

She suddenly, and very unexpectedly, threw her arm around you. You guessed it would have been both but she was handcuffed to the bed, after all. You awkwardly patted her back, pretending you didn’t feel the warm wet tear spots on your button up.

You made a little more small talk with Sarah before deciding you really should get back out there and make good on your promises to her.

No sooner had you closed the door to her room than a large hand wrapped around your bicep, propelling you down the hall and into a secluded alcove by the bathrooms. “What are you doing?” You hissed at Dean, jerking your arm from his grip.

“I think the question is what are you doing?” his insidious glare burrowed into your soul. “First, you run in the opposite direction when you see me, now you’re…you’re hugging patients?!” His arms gestured wildly around him, and you fought back the sudden and insane urge to laugh. “Since when do you get so close to the victims?”

He was right, of course. You always kept a professional distance, even if you wanted to comfort someone in any way you could. “Maybe if you had stuck around all those years ago you’d know why I am the way I am; you might understand why I have to do everything I can to stop this monster.”

His face was blank; you could almost see the gears turning in his head. “Wait, what are you talking about? You told me to leave!”

“Because you wanted to! I couldn’t see you, Dean. For weeks. You were fidgety, cagey. You wanted any good excuse to leave!” You were struggling to keep your voice down, all those raw emotions you’d shoved down over the years finally bubbling up past the cracks in your armor, “I just gave you the out you wanted.”

“Just tell me what was going on! You withdrew from me! What was I supposed to do?” There was real pain in his eyes, usually something he repressed, always putting others first. “I couldn’t stay if you didn’t want me there.”

“I wanted you to own up to your responsibility, Dean. I wanted a f-,” you cut yourself off before you said something stupid, “but you didn’t. You were happier with your brother in that piece of crap car you love so much.”

“Y/N, please. Just-”

“Dean! It’s been five years! Just, stop. You lost any privilege to know what I’m going through or what I’m feeling when you walked out on us.” Let him connect the dots on his own. Without another word you spun on your heel and stalked away from him, praying to any god that was listening that he wouldn’t follow you.


	4. Promise

You had barely made it out of the automatic doors of the main gate of the hospital before you heard the long, heavy strides behind you. You fumbled for your keys to the Camry and watched your hands shake as you tried to decipher which was the unlock button through tear-blurred vision. 

Your hands were shaking.

Monsters? Easy.   
Demons? You could handle those.   
Dean Winchester? There’s no manual.

“Fuck off, Winchester.” You growled through gritted teeth, pulling your hair free of the updo so that a curtain fell around your face to mask your features.

“Are you sure?” You were completely unprepared for Sam’s gentle voice as it stopped a few yards behind you. “Y/N, I don’t know what you’re going through, but I know my brother and I can promise you that whatever happened…he hasn’t been the same since.”

A shudder passed through you as you bit your lower lip, choking back a sob. You heard his footsteps edging closer and the weight of his hand settled heavily on your shoulder. Unable to resist, you spun into his chest and buried yourself into his jacket, his arms surrounding you in a protective embrace. After your breathing evened, Sam put a hand under your chin and tilted your face up to meet his reassuring gaze.

“C’mon, let’s go get something to eat. When was the last time you ate?” Sam’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as he took the keys from your hand and unlocked the door, opening it for you.

“Ever the gentleman…I could honestly use a drink more than anything else.”

“Well, lucky for you, most bars also serve real food. We’ll even count fried pickles in that category today.” He countered smugly.

“What about Dean? He’s going to be looking for you.” The last thing you wanted was another encounter.

“Let me worry about my brother, he’s likely going to hole himself up with a bottle and HBO in the hotel room. I saw the lashing you gave him, he’s going to want to lick his wounds and Dean is always cranky as all hell after the two of you fight, always. No matter how many times it’s happened before.”

Dean stood back just far enough so that even the bright fluorescents in the hospital parking lot couldn’t reach him. Watching his brother comfort you when he couldn’t twisted his stomach in such a knot that he couldn’t draw a full breath.

The two of you used to be inseparable. Everything from hunting to 80s hair band karaoke, he even missed the way you wiped the floor with him when you played pool. When he saw you fall into Sam’s arms with a face flushed from crying he had to turn away. He felt his own eyes begin to sting and rested his back against the wall of the hospital. Loosening his tie, he slumped against the sterile environment and his breath hitched in his throat.

“Is there anything I can get you?” A meek voice intruded on his thoughts.

“No, I’m alright. Thanks.” Dean abruptly cleared his throat and felt his cheek twitch as he tried to regain composure. His eyes fell to the purple scrubs of a nurse from the NICU that he had seen in passing while he questioned the staff about the missing children.

“Losing someone like that leaves a void,” she offered. Dean’s eyes drew up sharply to hers and his expression solidified into an impassive mask. “I’m sorry, you just have the look. I see it a lot in a place like this.”

He watched with interest as her hands rose to the slight swell in her belly, a new engagement ring rested on her left ring finger. She went on, “I don’t want to assume to know your affairs, but in your position when you see people experience the kind of loss we’ve had here recently it really makes you think about things…people you’ve lost yourself.”

“Thank you.” Dean whispered gently. His eyes darted involuntarily to the parking lot and that sickening feeling in his stomach returned in full force. Before turning to leave through the opposite wing of the hospital, towards the comfort of his own Baby, he rested his hand gently on the arm of the nurse, “Congratulations…take care of yourself, miss.”

You were working on your third scotch and you were beginning to feel the fog of the alcohol wrap itself around your consciousness. The irritation that they only had Dean’s favorite brand at this particular hole in the wall wore off after the first glass hit your empty stomach.

“So…” Sam cleared his throat as the bartender set his grilled vegetable panini down in front of his laptop, your half rack of ribs and side of fries followed shortly after.

“….what?” You cheekily finished his sentence, jamming three fries in your mouth only after dipping them in the bbq. “I don’t want to talk about it, Samuel. Don’t push it, I’m feeling bitey this evening and I’d rather my frustrations not spill over onto you.” You tore off one of the ribs and nibbled at the edge, “You didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, well maybe I should have.” Sam huffed, taking a bite of his rabbit food and chewing as if the vegetables had offended him in some way before they arrived on his plate.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You bit back, feeling the fire of the alcohol feed into your underlying rage.

“I sat there and watched you two self-destruct and I did nothing. I mean,” Sam swiveled on his barstool to look at you, “I’ve known you too long to ignore the fact that you and my brother are cut from the same cloth. You’re bullheaded, rough around the edges, and you’re one of the few women who I’ve seen stand toe to toe with him and come out unscathed.” Sam elbowed you playfully, knocking you off balance on your chair, “It doesn’t hurt that you more than make up for his distaste for research when you decide to pitch in on cases, and you’re the only girl I’ve ever seen successfully get my brother to eat anything green without crying about it.”

Sam heaved a heavy sigh when he saw the corner of your mouth fall and your lip begin to quiver, “I mean to say you’re good for him, Y/N.”

“Sam….” you began and found yourself stopping just before it all fell out of your mouth in a torrent.

“When you walked out on us?” Sam stressed the last word, searching your face for a reaction and found what he was looking for. The tears fell fresh down your face as you looked into the face of the friend you knew you couldn’t hide the truth from. “You know, I’m not as dense as my brother, but he’s going to figure it out. Sooner than later.”

Your voice quavered as the closest thing to a confession of the truth left your tongue, “Sammy…you could have been an Uncle.” Your head leaned over onto his strong shoulder and you felt his arm wrap around your back for the second time that evening. “I need to find the thing that took…that stole my life from me. It’s back and it’s happening to other women and I can’t let it get away this time. I won’t be able to live with myself.”

Sam rubbed your back, soothing your anguish and pushing your drink closer to you with his other hand. “I’m going to help you. I promise.”


End file.
